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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 11 months ago

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@steddiemas Day 25 - Opening gifts

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,674 | rated: T

hello again friends! this one is late (again, i'm sorry 😭) but here's the next part for day 25!! I had a great holiday and i hope you all did too!!

The whirlwind of the next couple days surprises him; after dinner on the 21st, there was a whole two days where he didn’t see Steve at all.

He was out of town on the 22nd alltogether for what Robin called “The Harrington Fake As Fuck Holiday Tour”, off seeing his grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, and the 23rd is when Wayne’s plant had their Christmas potluck.

He may not have liked the holiday season all that much in the years before this, but who is he to turn down a full day of food?

It was on the way home from said potluck that Eddie realized.

“Oh fuck..”

“Hm?” Wayne hums from the driver’s seat.

“Oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuck! I don’t have a present for him!” Eddie whips his head around to gape at the side of his uncle’s face, “Wayne, I don’t have a present for Steve!”

Wayne huffs out a breath, a low “Goddammit, boy.” coming out with it.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Sounds like you’re goin’ shoppin’ tomorrow, Ed.” he’s still shaking his head.

“I don’t have the cash for that, what am I supposed to do? What do you get your brand new boyfriend for Christmas?” Eddie pauses. “Wait, are we boyfriends?”

“Y’do know you two were friends before you were maybe boyfriends, right?” Wayne says, “What were ya gonna give him?”

“I was going to make him a battle jacket–but that’s not nearly good enough, Wayne! He only wore mine that one time! What was I thinking, he doesn’t wear vests, he needs something better, I need more cash, he needs something-–”

“Calm down Eds, take a breath.” Wayne takes a hand off the wheel to clasp a hand over Eddie’s shoulder. “Steve will appreciate literally anything you give him, he even liked it when you kissed him,”

“Shut up,”

“And you may be right,” Wayne shrugs, taking his hand off Eddie’s shoulder to do so, “He might not be a vest kinda guy, but what if ya, now hear me out on this, leave the sleeves on the damn thing?”

Eddie turns to blink stupidly at his uncle, now gazing at him as if over a pair of invisible glasses.

They both burst out laughing, “Okay, okay, I’ll still make him the jacket…though I don’t know if I have enough patches.”

Wayne only scoffs at him, turning his attention back to the road when the light turns green, “That’s a damn lie and you know it.”

“I don’t!” “You have a whole fuckin’ shoebox of ‘em in that closet of yours! You dump it out every time you add something to your own vest.”

“Let me rephrase: I don’t have enough Steve patches.”

“The hell is a Steve Patch?”

A Steve Patch, as Wayne soon finds out, is one of any number of patches Eddie may get his grubby paws on that isn’t something to do with one of the bands he listens to, or something to do with that game he likes.

“It’s gotta be things he likes, right?”

“Sure,” Wayne nods from his recliner, not bothering to look up from his paper at the pile of patches and miscellaneous bobbins of thread that his nephew has dumped all over their coffee table. “Or you can add a few that’ll remind him of you and take him to get more’a his own later. Make a day of it.”

His silence makes Wayne look up. Eddie’s gaping at him.

“What?”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a genius?”

“Hmph,” he says, and goes back to reading.

Eddie’s hushed ‘Ow!’s and ‘Fuck!’s mingle with the low radio playing through the rest of their evening.

Steve’s old-new jacket was thrifted a couple months ago now, the denim only a couple shades darker than the denim of his own vest, and Eddie’d immediately brought it home and told Wayne of his plan.

His uncle had called him on his intentions almost as quick, saying “He must be pretty special, huh?”

So Eddie worked through the night, moving into his own room come about three on the morning of the 24th to let Wayne sleep in peace. In the end, he only had four patches to add to the jacket: an Ozzy patch for Steve’s similar bat chomping prowess, one of the KISS logo since Steve had really taken to a few of their songs, a D20 for him and the rest of the party, and a scruffy-looking BMW patch he’d found at the same time he’d found the jacket; but the longer part of his work was the painstakingly embroidering a scattering of bats up the left arm of the jacket, and the best copy of Steve’s spiked nailbat he could manage along the backside of the right forearm, putting the spiked end close to the end of the sleeve.

He packed it up carefully, in a box that previously held kindling (old notes leftover from school), wrapping it up with a couple sheets of the last months’ Funnies, and laid down to catch at least a couple hours.

-x-

A few hours later, Eddie finds himself on the Harringtons’ front steps.

Steve should be back by now, of course, and the rest of the party he knows will be at home with the rest of their families. It is Christmas Eve, of course.

He hoped to just drop by to give Steve his gift, but he secretly hoped Mr. and Mrs. Harrington would continue to be America’s Greatest Parents and make themselves scarce for the fifth year in a row.

Aw fuck, that’s a shitty thing to think, hoping that his boyfrien—best frien—frien— Steve’s parents would be gone so Steve would have time for him?

How did Steve find it in him to like Christmas so damn much if his parents were always gone? Was Robin even telling the truth? Have they really been gone each of the past four?

Eddie’s almost-panicked contemplation is interrupted when Steve opens the door.

“Eds, hi! What are yo—”

“How do you like Christmas so much?”

“Uh..what?”

Damn it Eddie, this is not the time for this. “Nevermind, nevermind, hey Stevie; can I come in?”

“Yeah, o’course.” He steps out of the way of the door and closes the door behind Eddie when he enters. “What brings you by? Not doing anything with Wayne?”

“He’s working tonight, so our only plans are cinnamon rolls for breakfast in the morning.” he shrugs.

Steve nods, “So what’ve you got there, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s heart swoops at the name, “I uh, got you something.”

“You did?” His face looks incredibly fond.

“Yeah, so you better have gotten me something too, big boy.” Eddie huffs, wrestling with the laces on his boots “I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I get these off.”

Suddenly, Steve’s down on one knee in front of him and reaching for his leg. “Give it here before you fall over.”

Steve hooks one hand around the back of his heel, and the other makes quick work of the fraying laces. Eddie quite likes to think he was holding it together just fine, thank you, until Steve’s hand moves from his laces to the back of his knee.

Eddie’s face flushes fast, and his boot is off in the next second.

Who the fuck has a knee-pit thing?

Steve sets down that leg and carefully lifts the other for the same treatment.

Okay, maybe it’s just a ‘Steve is touching a part of me that literally no one else ever has before’ thing, but still.

All in all, it was maybe a whole 30 seconds that Steve was knelt down in front of him, but it felt like it was an instant and like it was hours at the same time.

“There ya go” Steve grins, standing again, “Can I open my present now?”

“Be my guest, sunshine.” he passes Steve the box very cool-like and not at all still flustered with his voice still pitched high, thank you very much.

Steve starts in on Garfield, stolling into the living room and leaving a trail of shredded paper in his wake.

“Ooh, a box, thanks Eds.” Steve smirks, sinking onto the end of the couch closest to the tree.

“Ha ha ha.” Eddie deadpans in return, shoving his hands into his pockets and wanting desperately to look away from Steve’s possible reaction; but he can’t. He’s nearly vibrating in anticipation.

He finally tears through the flimsy scotch tape holding the top flaps together and opens it.

Steve’s eyes jump to Eddie’s immediately, his jaw dropping.

“Is this–” he looks back down at it, pulls the jacket out and free of the box as he stands back up to hold it out in front of him.

Eddie’s face feels like it’s on fire, like his innards are stretched and twisted like the world’s most complicated pretzel.

Steve’s eyes are on him again, “You made me a battle jacket?”

All Eddie could do was nod, his throat clenched tight.

His heart was thrust somewhere into the aforementioned gut-pretzel when Steve slipped the jacket over his shoulders.

Why he thought he could see it better while it was on him is knowledge lost to Eddie, but he tries his damndest to twist around to see the BMW and KISS patches on his right side. He seemed to notice the threads covering his arms when trying to pull the left hem of the jacket around to admire the Ozzy and D20 patches there.

“Eddie, did you—” Steve looks up at him in wonder

“Mm hmm,” he nods, then has to yank his hands out of his pockets as quickly as he can, wrapping his palms over careful stitches in denim when Steve takes two long strides to pull Eddie to him.

Now, up until the exact moment Steve’s lips were on his, Eddie could be convinced that what happened on Steve’s back patio a couple days ago was just a fluke; a daydream maybe, possibly a nightmare meant to torture him and he really had died back in March.

But he didn’t.

He was here. Being kissed by his boyfriend. For a present he’d given him for Christmas.

Holy shit..

“Eddie..” Steve breathes his name like a prayer and Eddie’s stomach swoops in response. “You are amazing, d’y’know that?”

Eddie hums into another kiss, his head is swimming, “Hmmm..no. Tell me again.” he teases.

Steve huffs a laugh, “You are amazing, Eddie Munson, you stitched this with your own two hands just for me?”

“It’s only four patches.” he noses forward to connect their lips again, but is held at bay. He opens his eyes to Steve’s own boring into him.

“It’s only nothing, Eds. Do you see this?!” Steve lifts his arm between them, the right one with the nail bat, “And this?” he says, re-placing his hand on Eddie’s cheek to lift his left into view instead, the arm with the bats. “You did that yourself, by hand. You are so fucking talented, Eddie. I love y--it. I love it. Thank you.”

Eddie’s finally rewarded with another kiss for having to suffer through that praise.

“You’re welcome, sunshine.”

Steve pulls back again, searching his face with those striking hazel eyes of his. His expression steels. “Damn you, Munson.” he practically hisses, letting Eddie go completely.

“Aw what?” he jokes over the stabbing pain in his gut, “First I’m amazing and now—”

“Oh shush,” Steve chides him, crouching down to search the lowest branches of his tree.

“We really need to find you a back patch for that thing.” he mumbles while Steve continues his search.

“Ah ha! Got it!” Steve stands and rushes back to him, “Here, open it.”

A simple white envelope is pressed into his hand.

“Look, Steve I really appreciate the thought,” Eddie starts, flipping open the top flap open, “But I’ve got a job you kno—”

His joking is cut off when he feels the thick cardstock finally drop into his palm from the upturned envelope.

Eddie looks down at it.

There’s two of them. General admission, for just a couple months from now.

Eddie’s not new to this, he’s been following the bits of news he could of his favorite bands’ tours and Iron Maiden is in what, Italy right now? He knew they were coming closer again soon but must not have been watching close enough.. He didn’t even realize these had gone on sale yet.

“Steve, these are–”

“Not as cool as Metallica or Ozzy, I know, but neither are coming by anywhere close anytime soon, and I knew you liked these guys too, the skull guy? Whatever, point is, I picked them up a couple weeks ago when me and Rob went up to Indy last and I thought maybe you and Wayne could go, or you and Jeff maybe—”

Eddie had stared, transfixed, while Steve went on his little tirade, pacing back and forth, but hold on..

“Hold on, Steve, stop.”

He does, looking nervous.

“Steve, sweetheart, first of all: thank you. This is amazing, perfect even! Second,” he drops the envelope onto the coffee table and runs his hands up and down Steve’s arms soothingly, “What in the world makes you think Wayne would want to come with me?”

It works, and Steve huffs out a laugh, rolling his eyes at him.

“You know what I meant, dickhead.”

“I know, sweetheart, but there’s only one person I’d want to come with me.”

Steve’s lips twitch, “I dunno Eds, I’m pretty cool with Claudia, but I don’t think even I could convince her to let her precious Dusty Buns go with you.”

Eddie smirks at him, letting his arms go “Now who’s being a dickhead.”

Steve smiles back, then his face falters, “You sure you like them? I can always get them exchanged or give them to someo—”

“You better fuckin’ not,” Eddie says, snatching the envelope back up and clutching it close to his chest, “My boyfriend got me these tickets, you cur.”

He expected Steve to latch on to that one, say something like “What–What’d you just call me?”, or “Cur? Who are you, Shakespeare?”, hell, even something as simple as “..Gross.”, but nothing comes.

He’s just…staring at him.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“...Boyfriend?”

Oh shit.

“Um..” Eddie gulps loudly, “Y-yeah, that okay?”

Steve’s hands are cupped around his face not a second later, and his lips on Eddie’s another moment later.

He’s lost to the feeling instantly, there’s nothing but SteveSteveSteve running through his head, wading through his soupy brains to reach all corners.

Steve licks into his mouth and Eddie melts to his front, arms wrapping around his boyfriend.

Eventually, Steve pulls back enough to murmur, “I’d love to be your boyfriend, Eddie.”

Eddie kisses him again, nothing pushy, no expectations, only the weird sense of gratefulness he has for Steve accepting his new title.

Steve hums in satisfaction when Eddie finally does let him go and gives him a last quick peck on the nose, which Steve pushes him off for with a smile.

“So whattya wanna do tonight, sweetheart? You got any good movies around here?” Eddie says, turning to squat down in front of Steve and Robin’s pile of favorite tapes next to the TV.

“Well, you know…”

“..I know?” Eddie encourages, picking up a copy of Rocky Horror in one hand and Rocky in the other.

“There are some things I haven’t done with a boyfriend before..”

“Uh, yeah, I’d hope not Stevie.” Eddie scoffs as Steve starts to move, heading out the room, “You’ve never had one before.”

“Exactly.” He rounds the corner out the door.

Eddie assumes he’s heading to the kitchen for snacks, but drops both tapes when he hears the bottom step creak.

Oh.

You’re just a whole-ass idiot, aren’t you Munson?

“You comin’ Eds?”

Eddie’s on his feet in an instant and on the steps behind Steve before he’s even done talking. “Holy shit, uh..yes, yep, yeah the fuck I am, Jesus H. Christ.”

oooohh i think the fic rating is about to go up 👀

some notes:

i based the ticket text off this image from a Bon Jovi show a week before iron Maiden's scheduled show (i couldn't find a pic of the IM show ticket, and i'm not sure if it also started at 7:30)

$14.50 in November 1986 dollars would $40.33 in November 2023 dollars!

the show date is an actual date i got from Iron Maiden's website! and eddie was right, last he may have heard, they would've likely played their last shows in Italy before the holiday in '86.

i am not the first or last person to give steve a jacket with patches and i just know he's gonna have fun finding more pins and patches for it with both robin and eddie <3

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